


The Rose Avails

by TehRevving



Category: Devil May Cry
Genre: Blood, Blood Kink, F/M, Gunplay, Knifeplay, Rough Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-22
Updated: 2019-06-22
Packaged: 2020-05-16 11:57:44
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,844
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19317700
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TehRevving/pseuds/TehRevving
Summary: Dante notices that you seem to have developed a blood/violence kink and encourages you to explore it with him.Dante x Fem Reader. Knifeplay. Gunplay. Bloodplay. Actual Cutting. Actual Shooting. Rough Sex.





	The Rose Avails

**Author's Note:**

> God, Dante is a kink. Add in the fact that he’s basically invulnerable too, damn you can’t tell me he’s not into all sorts of weird kinky stuff.
> 
> Anyway this fic is not for the faint of heart but this is DMC we're talking about.  
> Trigger warnings for blood, knifeplay, gunplay, actual shooting, actual cutting, rough sex, choking etc  
> Stay safe and enjoy.

In the beginning, the denial was easy. It was simply too easy to convince yourself that the only reason you couldn’t resist the urge to jump onto Dante’s cock after a fight was because of the adrenaline. That it was because it was hot watching him panting with exertion after defeating an enemy; his body thrumming with adrenaline and sheer demonic energy. That you enjoyed the way his eyes stared right through you, looked right into your soul, the way he looked at you like a piece of meat to be devoured. 

You managed to convince yourself that it absolutely wasn’t the way his clothing looked splattered in demon blood. That it wasn’t the sight of crimson matting in his long hair and painting his skin in morbid trails that begged for you to run your tongue all over them. You pretended that you weren’t aroused by the way he would lick errant drops of demon blood from his lips as he stalked towards you. Pretending that you didn’t love the way the blood would end up smeared on your skin, transferred from his large hands and tight body while his cock made you forget about everything else in existence.

It’s normal, when your partner isn’t, to want to explore things isn’t it? To keep crossing the line when that line doesn’t really exist. He never complains when you dig your nails hard enough into his back that a human may scarred. In fact, he only encourages you to sink your teeth so deep into the soft flesh of his neck that he actually has to use force to pull you off him. 

You only want to take those things further because you want to mark his pale skin that heals far too quickly… right?

You’d existed in that state of bliss, in your perfect denial, happy with how your life was; until of course, it all came crashing down one day. Nero got angry and possibly justifiably impaled Dante straight through the chest in the middle of the shop.

Hot blood had sprayed everywhere, gushing out in an obscene fountain from around the sword sticking right the way through his chest. The blood had sprayed everywhere, all over the floor and walls of the shop.

You watched the whole thing unfold, utterly unable to stop shock of intense arousal that began coursing through your body. It was almost debilitating in its intensity, you locked your legs together to try and suppress the feeling, you were glad you were sitting down, otherwise you would have fallen to the floor. 

You managed to change your uncontrollable moan of pleasure to a noise of surprise, which was much more appropriate, considering you had just been sprayed with your boyfriend’s blood. 

You tried to act normal about the whole thing, but Dante knew. The bastard of course had a better than human sense of smell and various other abilities that made him know exactly how you felt and made your act all for naught. 

He had known and with a cocky smirk had called you out on it barely five minutes later when he dragged you upstairs under the flimsy pretence of having you help clean him up. 

No cleaning up had happened, instead you had fucked on almost every surface of his room. The walls, floor and the bed ending up covered in his blood and various other fluids.

Since then he had been encouraging you to take it further, trying to test the limits of your kink, assuring you that he was into it too.

That’s how you ended up here, shifting your weight from foot to foot with a nervousness you couldn’t shake as you watched said bastard lay an assortment of weapons out onto the surface of his desk.

You knew that he couldn’t die, or more that he wouldn’t die from anything you could inflict on him. You just couldn’t shake the feeling of how fucked up this was, or of how hot it made you. The thought of hurting Dante, seriously hurting him, lapping at his fresh, hot blood while you rode his cock was becoming more and more appealing by the moment. 

There wasn’t really anything healthy about being with Dante honestly. He was rough and violent, not afraid of using any of his abilities to great effect. You supposed that all of this, at the end of the day was less fucked up than how much you enjoyed fucking him while he was Devil Triggered, wasn’t it?

Dante called out your name to get your attention, to pull you from your internal rambling.

He watched you, waiting until your eyes met his. He winked at you, pointed at you with finger guns and called out, “Smokin’ Sexy Style.” The point was to make you laugh, and it worked. He started stripping once he had your attention then, throwing off his coat and his shirt, pulling the garment over his head, making a huge show of it.

Dante flexed for you and ran his hands down his chest, tilted his hips as his hands and your eyes followed the sharp lines of his body down. He grabbed at his clothed crotch, thrusting his hips forward, it shouldn’t have been sexy, but it was. 

He smirked at you, not that your eyes were really focused on his face before he pulled the chair out from behind his desk and sat down. He lounged back on it, getting comfortable in a way that only Dante could make sexy. 

You heard the clinking of his belt as he undid it, left it hanging open around his hips as he pulled open his fly. He bucked his hips in show as he gently eased out his semi-hard cock from where it had been trapped by fabric against his thigh, it’s not like the bastard ever wore underwear.

He lounged back, posture relaxed with his eyes trained on you from across the room. He slowly began moving his fist up and down the length of his cock, rocking his hips gently in time with his hand, putting on a show for you. 

Fuck he looked good like that, taking pleasure from his body while he waited for you to move. You tore your eyes away from him and walked over to the desk, just to give it a cursory inspection while you still had the brain power.

There’s a decent amount weapons and daggers laid haphazardly on the desk, some of the blades facing towards his chair, with Ebony and Ivory pointing away from it. There was some part of you in the back of your mind that figured it wasn’t particularly safe to just have all these items laid out like this. That it probably wasn’t too safe to fuck on the chair right next to them, where any rough thrust could send them flying. 

You had to remind yourself that it would be fine, Dante was able to catch bullets with his teeth after all. Even if his cock was buried inside of you at the time, surely he’d be able to react if anything was to happen, obviously he wasn’t worried.

You could see the bastard out of the corner of your eye, hair falling in his face while he kept working his cock. He looked slightly hurt that you were ignoring his show. 

“Whenever your ready babe,” he grinned as you turned towards him, the way your eyes fell on his stroking hand not escaping his notice. He paused, “or not,” punctuating his words with a sharp thrust of his hips up into his hand, throwing his head back as a mock groan escaped from his lips, “my hand feels pretty fucking good.” 

Fuck it, if he was gonna put on that sort of attitude, then you were going to commit to this.

You walked around the desk and over to him. You tried to loom over him as best as you were able, even though you’re only slightly taller than he is while you’re standing and he’s seated. Dante looks up at you, tilting his head back. You curl your fingers in his hair, yanking hard as his head lolls back. He lets out a slight groan at that, a real one. You hold his head still and slap him across the cheek with your other hand.

Dante grunts and doesn’t stop stroking his cock. 

You know he would hardly have felt it, but it’s the action that counts. It’s important for you to try and establish the roles in this scene, that you’re going to take control, no matter how nervous you are.

You take in a deep breath and try to be as commanding as you can, “that belongs to me, stop touching it.”

He removes his hand with a slightly shaky breath.

You release his hair and undress yourself, throwing your shirt off and watching as his eyes focus on your white lacy bra. You leave it on, you want it to get dirty. You take your thong off, throwing it across the room while leaving your short skirt on. 

You hike your skirt up and sit down on his lap, hands against his shoulders to keep you steady while you adjust. His large hands come around your waist, pulling at your hips until you’re flush with him.

You knot fingers into his long hair and pull him to your lips. Dante is enthusiastic, his stubble rough and burning against your skin as he kisses you back, it feels fucking fantastic. His tongue is hot against yours, his hand against your back making it impossible to pull away. He tastes like whisky and something that is just dark and demonic and all Dante. You can tell he’s far more riled up than he's letting on, you can feel the slight press of his teeth against your lip. His canines growing ever so slightly into fangs with his arousal. You take care not to cut your lips or tongue on them, for now anyway.

It’s too easy to get lost in the heat of him, the feel of his tongue down your throat and the growls rumbling from his chest. Too easy for you to shift in his lap and rut against his thick shaft. You consider not going through with the violence for a moment, considering instead pulling yourself from his lips, leaning forward and begging in his ear for him to trigger, beg for him to transform and fuck you with his thick, ribbed demon cock until you’re not able to walk. 

Dante makes the decision for you though, pulling away from you and holding your head back by your hair when you try to chase his lips. He leaves you panting, breathing heavily while he looks perfectly composed. 

He pulls you to his chest, pressing your head to his shoulder with an arm pressed against your spine. His skin is scorching hot against your own. You press your teeth into his shoulder until he shudders. He leans forward towards the desk, holding you steady while picking something up from it before leaning back against the chair. 

Dante uses your hair to extract your teeth from his flesh with a grunt, moves you with his large hands until you’re sitting back on his lap with space between your upper bodies, until the only place you’re pressed together is where his pulsing shaft rests against your clit. 

He draws your eyes down to the mid sized dagger he’s holding. He throws it up into the air between you a few times, making it spin and catching it on its way down, showing off as his other hand rubs circles into your hip. 

He catches it effortlessly by the blade between his fingers, holding it out with the handle facing towards you.

You take it from him, turning it around in your own fingers. You could tell it was wicked sharp on both edges of the flat blade. It looked more like a small sword than the curved daggers you were used to using. 

Dante leaned back against the chair, looking carefree, creating more space between you. He kept one hand on your hip supporting you with the other resting on your exposed thigh.

He waits for you to make the first move, grinning at you and waggling his eyebrows, he’s always been good at lightening the mood.

You decide to start small, running one side of the blade across his collarbone. Softly to start with, trying to work out how much pressure you need to use. The tip of the blade leaves tiny red marks on his skin, barely visible through the light hair on his chest and disappearing almost as soon as your eyes could focus on them. 

Dante didn’t react at all. 

You repeat the movement on the other side, pressing harder on the blade. The red marks are darker this time, longer lasting, but they still didn’t bleed. 

“You can go harder babe,” he says to you, leaning forward for a moment to rub his stubble against your cheek, “I’m a big boy I can handle it.” The small pin pricks against your cheek send chills down your spine as he pulls away again, you can feel the rumble of his voice in his chest through the blade. 

You use more pressure, your hands starting to shake. This time, the wounds bleed, barely; thin tracks of crimson dripping for hardly a moment before closing up. The blood stays on his skin, making its way down his chest. You dip your head to run your tongue over the congealing liquid and smear it against his skin. 

His blood tastes sweet, coppery and strong but sweet. You knew that already of course, but it was still surprising, you’d had a taste of it before, but not like this. You wanted more of it, to make more spill from his flesh by your hand. 

You lean back sticking your stained tongue out at him for a moment. Dante leans forward and licks the errant blood from its surface before licking up the side of your face and colouring your skin with it. You laugh and push him back by the chest, holding the blade out in front of you, raising your arms back slightly.

Using what you thought was a reasonable amount of pressure, you sunk the blade into the centre of his chest.

There’s a slick noise, wet suction as the blade sticks half way into his chest. Dante grunts lowly at the force of it and you watch as sticky crimson begins to well up around the blade. 

You just watch for a moment, and then with a wet squelch you pull the blade from his skin. 

“That was bone,” Dante groans at you while you lean down to lap at the blood still seeping from the wound, “you’ve gotta use more force than that if you wanna make me a pin cushion sweetheart.”

You hardly hear him, your senses filled with the sweet, metallic taste and smell of his blood. You spread it across his chest with your tongue, watching as the dark red spreads through the light hairs covering his chest and stains his skin. 

Dante growls as you adjust on his lap, pulling back and preparing to use the blade again. His hand wraps around yours, guiding you until the blade is resting more over his pec than the centre of his chest, “try here, and harder,” he suggests. You look up at his face and he’s looking down at you with a genuine smile, a little bit of blood smeared on his lip. 

With a deep exhale you plunge the blade into his chest again but this time, it sinks fully down into his flesh. The skin and muscles of his chest part easily under the sharp edge, more blood seeping out from around the edges than before. It’s surprising to you, that for all his strength and muscles, they really did nothing to protect him from your weapon. 

You drag the blade downwards, creating a gaping cut before you struggle to pull the blade out. There’s wet noises as you pull, struggle against the suction created from his skin and the blood congealing around the blade. 

You look up at Dante to check on him, his head is resting against the back of the chair, hair falling in his face with his eyes half closed. 

The cut stays open for maybe half a minute, blood oozing from the wound at a slower and slower rate until the skin seals over with a faint red line that you know won't be there in 10 minutes time. 

You lean down to lick at the already drying blood, Dante’s skin burning hot underneath your tongue. You lap up almost all of it, it tastes so good, the texture of it sticking to the back of your throat as you struggle to swallow. 

You can feel his cock throb against you at the touch of your tongue, as if reminding you that it’s there. You look down between your bodies, noticing the large amount of precome smeared against his abs and at your own glistening slick covering the shaft of his cock. 

You look back up at him, a glint of madness in your eye, but his are unfocused and he doesn’t see. 

You stab him repeatedly, as fast as you can manage with how the blade sticks into his skin. You thrust and stab until his chest is covered with a pattern of deep wounds, the sheer number of them causing them to heal slower. 

Dante groans, his whole body shaking with the force of your stabs, his chest rising and falling, his upper body being pushed and pulled from the back of the chair from the force of the knife. 

You lick the sticky blood from his chest, smear it into his skin until his chest hair is stained red and your hands are tinted dark. 

You cup his face with your blood stained hands, run them through his hair. Making the silver strands stick together as you cover them in dark copper. You pull him to your lips, kissing him and moving your hands across his jaw and down his neck.

He doesn’t seem to mind the taste of his own blood, sucking your tongue into his mouth. His hands tighten on your hips and the blade falls from your hand onto the floor somewhere. He grinds your hips against his, ruts your hot core against his cock, the slick between your bodies making the friction almost unbearable. He pulls you to his body, presses your covered breasts against his chest, so you can feel the hot stick of his blood on your skin. You almost imagine that you can feel the dark red seeping into the white fabric of your bra. 

You reach down between your too hot bodies, your hand slick with blood as you run it down his torso until your reach his cock. You close your fist as best as you can around his shaft and start to stroke, you can’t wrap your hand all the way around him but you do your best to cover him with sticky red fluid in the most morbid of handjobs. 

You press the head of his cock against your throbbing core, biting at his lips. He knows what you want, pulling away from you and grabbing you by the waist. Dante uses his strength to lift you up high so until he can angle his hips and press his leaking head against your entrance. You need his help in this position, his cock too long for you to take inside without him giving you some height.

You shake in his arms as he guides you down, it’s almost like you’re being impaled on his bloody shaft. He knows how much you love to feel the burn of him, how much you love the feel of your body struggling to adjust to him. You cut your lips on his fangs as they grow longer the further down you sink. 

Dante moans against your lips and you can feel the vibration of it through your chest. He lets out a small gasp, a whine as after what feels like forever your hips meet flush together. You can feel every throb of him against your too tight walls as you cry out and shake in his arms. 

You’re panting, chest heaving and even Dante is a little bit breathless now. He shifts his hips and tightens his grip on you, bounces you up and down on his cock and murmurs your name against your neck. 

He controls the pace until he can slide in and out without the overwhelming tightness. He pulls you to his chest again, leaves you sitting on his lap with his cock all the way inside of you as he leans forward. It’s like you can feel him in your chest, you clutch to him as he holds you steady and picks something up from the table before returning back.

You’re only slightly shocked when you see he’s holding Ivory, handle pointing towards you. 

Your hands are shaking as you take it from him, still trying to keep your balance as his hips pulse underneath you. 

You try to inspect the gun while Dante distracts you, picking you up and dropping you on his cock with his hands. Eventually you manage to note that the safety is on and that the gun is fully loaded.

You reach out with a blood-stained hand to steady yourself against his chest. You rock your hips, tensing your pelvic muscles to tighten around him; you’re just trying to get his heart to beat a little bit faster. The movement makes him stop the rocking of his hips, as much as he can anyway.

You line Ivory up with shaking hands, pressing the end of the gun directly over his heart. It makes an indent against his skin as you struggle to steady your hand, the whole weapon physically shifting now with each strong pulse of his rapidly beating heart. The stab wounds on the other side of his chest have almost entirely healed, but the blood still remains.

You flick the safety off and look up at him. 

Dante is breathing heavily but his attention is focused on you and he meets your gaze. 

“Be careful of the recoil,” he warns with a slight smirk and a tone that’s far too cocky and nonchalant for a guy with a gun pressed directly over his heart. 

There’s a wet noise as you press your other hand against his blood slick chest for support, you could feel your palm sticking to his skin as the mess of blood begins to dry. He has his arm braced around your waist to hold you steady, while he waits for you to be ready.

You take in some deep breaths to try and calm yourself, to prepare your whole being for what’s about to happen. You focus on your own breathing, on the rise of fall of Dante’s chest against your hand. You focus on the feel of the trigger underneath your finger, of the weight of the gun in your hand, of the magnitude of what you’re about to do.

You look up at Dante again, your eyes flicking between his face and the gun. He nods firmly at you, his thumb rubbing circles into your hip for support.

With a deep and shaky breath, you pull the trigger.

The recoil of the shot and the spray of blood that follows it knocks your hand from his chest. Your whole body is shaking from the force of it, your vision blurry and tinged red

There’s so much blood, you can taste it between your lips, feel it scorching and cooling against your skin. His overpowered gun must have destroyed his main arteries with the way the blood is still spurting out from his chest. 

You’re whimpering and rocking against him, your head having fallen against his shoulder. You can’t do much but ride out the pulses of pleasure that surge through your body as you shudder around his cock. You think you came, but you’re not sure, there’s just so much sensation, so much for your addled brain to process.

Dante is gasping for breath and groaning, blood dribbling from his lips. His head is thrown back, body shaking against your own. You’re suddenly aware of his cock throbbing violently inside of you, of a huge gush of fluid leaking out from between you. 

“Dante,” you struggle to say against his shoulder, your hips still pulsing with aftershocks, “did you?”

“Yeah,” he groans, struggling not to choke on the blood as it pours from his mouth, “you got so fucking tight I couldn’t help it.”

You gasp and try to catch your breath against his shoulder.

“Do you want to keep going?” he asks, he won’t go soft without concerted effort on his part and he wants to make sure you’re ok.

You nod against his shoulder, and then whisper out a small yes.

“Shit babe,” he moans out to you, his voice scratchy and hoarse. “Shoot me again,” he pleads, “fuck I wanna feel you gush around my cock again when you pull the trigger.” 

You struggle to pull yourself away from the support of his shoulder, his cock pulsing against your over sensitive insides with your movements as you cry out for him. 

Eventually, you manage to line Ivory up again. You lean forward to kiss him, struggling to breathe against his blood stained lips. You shove your tongue down his throat, tasting all of the blood as it comes up from his lungs. His wet stubble burns your raw skin but you don’t care.

Dante uses his hips and his hands, fucking you hard and fast as you pull the trigger again and again. Shooting and shooting until the clips empty; fuck there’s so many bullets. You pull the trigger until your body is convulsing from recoil and pleasure and everything in between. There’s so much blood, your hips sticking together as you desperately try to fuck each other. It’s hard to keep kissing him with the amount of his sweet blood filling your mouth while his body physically shakes as each shot rearranges his insides.

You keep shooting until the barrel is clicking blanks. It feels incredible and you can’t focus on anything but pressing the trigger over and over again. 

Dante takes the gun from your grip once he realises you’re not coherent enough to do so. It forces you to pull away from him and stare at the multiple oozing bullet wounds in his chest. It’s one of the hottest things you’ve ever seen in your life.

“Dante,” you cry out for him, voice cracking, “fuck me,” you beg. He’s too far gone to do anything but oblige you, grabbing onto your hips with bruising intensity and putting all of the energy he has left into fucking you into oblivion. He shouldn’t even be alive right now, you have no idea how his biology works but fuck it doesn’t matter at all.

You’re too overstimulated, too far gone to even manage kissing him with any sort of coherency. You try to smash your lips against his, smearing more blood through his stubble. Your hands slip against his bloody chest while you try to grip onto him for support. 

Somewhere from inside your addled mind there’s an idea, a terrible all encompassing thought that makes you clench so tightly around him it interrupts the rhythm of his thrusts.

Dante grunts out your name as he suddenly can’t move. His body is twitches with the effort of staying still.

“Whatever you’re thinking, fucking do it,” he begs through clenched teeth, “Please.” 

Your mind is clear and foggy all at the same time as you start to process what he’s asking you to do; that he doesn’t even know what he’s asking you to do. 

“I need a knife.”

Dante groans and bucks his hips against you.

“Baby, please,” you beg him, pressing your fingers into the still smoking bullet wounds on his chest. 

“Fuck. Fuck. Okay.” He murmurs underneath his breath as he pulls you back to his chest. There’s a crashing noise as the weapons on the table go flying off as he sweeps his hand over it, uncaring and reckless.

You start riding him before he’s finished pulling back. Gripping his shoulder hard in your hand, digging your nails in and using him for support as you roll your hips against him. 

Dante curses and says your name over and over as he holds the knife out to you. His hand moves to your hip the second you take it from him, adjusting the rhythm of your hips while he grits his teeth. 

You move your free hand to the back of his neck, yanking hard on his hair until his neck is bent back, exposing the pale expanse of his throat to you. 

“Stay like this.” You order him. You move your hand over his throat and squeeze down on the sides. Hard. You don’t have the strength to actually choke him, but it’s enough. “Take what you need from me, and tell me when you’re going to come.”

Dante groans out in the affirmative and shakes underneath you. You can feel the effort it takes for him to swallow against your constricting fingers. 

You remove your hand and he behaves, not moving his head. You take the knife you’re holding and immediately stab it into his shoulder. You use it for support while you ride him. Lapping up the blood dripping down from the wound, mixing with the older drying blood painting his skin. You run your other hand through the sticky mess on his chest, pressing into the bullet holes that are beginning to close up. 

You slow your hips until they come to a stop, Dante bucking up underneath you and trying to get you to move. You laugh, just for a moment and pull the blade from his shoulder. You lick over the wound and then move up to his ear. You quip at him with a dark whisper, “just try and buck me off cowboy.”

Dante is relentless once given permission. His hands grip your hips so tightly you know that your skin will bruise. He uses his hips and his hands to pull out as much as he can, before slamming all the way back inside. His pace is hard, rough and brutal and you fucking love it.

The room is filled with the sound of his groans and your own cries interspersed with the loud sound of skin slapping on skin and the sick squelch of all the blood, sweat and fluid staining your bodies. 

You’re struggling to hold it together yourself, just trying to hold out until he’s close. Fuck, his huge cock hits every sensitive spot inside of you with each thrust, his hands expertly adjusting your hips to get the perfect angle. 

You know when he’s getting close but fuck it’s so difficult to concentrate. You raise the blade up once he starts to gasp out, once his breathing becomes laboured. You’re trying to work out how you’re going to line everything up, your body is physically moving with the force of each of his thrusts; even more so now both of your arms aren’t braced against his chest for support.

His eyes are trained on the weapon, like he’s trying to work out where you’re going to stick it. There’s a flash of realisation across his face and then he starts swearing, “Now. Now!”

You raise your weapon and wait for just a moment longer. You watch as his eyes close and his whole body starts to tense up. But you wait, just a little bit. You wait for the tell-tale slamming of your hips so hard down against his own as he loses the ability to thrust, for the choked off whimper of your name; you wait for him to absolutely be at the point of no return. 

Your timing is perfect as you slice Dante open across the throat while he comes. 

Blood goes everywhere as his cock releases inside of you. Dante’s whole body is shaking as copious amounts of his blood gush from his throat. You somehow manage to close your eyes, protecting them from the spray. It’s boiling hot as it hits your skin and the feel of it, hot and sticky and sweet pushes you over your own peak. 

You can feel each spurt of Dante’s hot release painting your insides as you tighten so much around him that he can’t move with your own. 

Dante gurgles and chokes, unable to speak or moan as the air catches in his open throat. It’s already starting to heal over, but it doesn’t matter. 

You fall against him, your blood soaked hair pressed to his chest. The two of you pant and breathe against each other, his arms loosely around you while his body struggles to recover.

It’s an effort to peel yourself away from him once you cool down, the drying blood and sweat making your skin stick to his. For the first time ever his cock starts going soft inside of you. It slips out with a wet sound and a heavy gush of fluid; his pants are most likely ruined now.

It takes a long time for Dante to catch his breath, well that makes sense considering his skin has to heal before he would even be able to breathe. You make a move to get off him but quickly realise that your legs just aren’t going to cooperate; you’ll need his help. 

You look around the office. There’s blood everywhere, on the walls, the floor and all of the furniture. You shake your head and fall back against his chest, not wanting to think about the clean up. 

Dante starts running a hand through your hair, holding you to his chest as he tries to work out some of the bloody tangles; it’s a lost cause. 

He groans loudly as his body starts responding again, “fuck.”

“Yeah, Fuck.” You reply, not moving.

You stay like that for a while, it’s not like you can move anyway.

You wait for Dante to move, he holds you as he begins to stand up. His hands are on your hips, holding you steady against his body.

“You look good like this,” he says, laying you down on his cleared desk. His eyes start roaming hungrily over your blood-stained form. “Absolutely fucked and covered in my blood.” He groans and runs a hand through his bloody, sweaty hair, pushing it back from his face. You watch as his eyes crinkle up at the corners with the devilish smirk that crosses his features, “time for round 2?”

You nod eagerly, pulling him down into a bloody, bruising kiss and not intending to ever let him go.

**Author's Note:**

> What did you think?  
> Fucked up enough for you?  
> Comments and Kudos Loved  
> Come and find me on Twitter and Tumblr as TehRevving


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